Open Letter to the Pornbot That Keeps Spamming My Inbox

Well, you’re certainly persistent–the same basic email every few days for months now… only the sexual act offered really changes.

You say we met on Facebook, which is strange, because I’ve certainly never met you on Facebook, since I don’t really “meet” people on Facebook at all… I only interact with friends and family I already know, or very occasionally, I suppose, a friend of a friend. But I don’t think you’re one of those, to be honest.

You ask “How are you sexy?” but then refer to the pictures of me that you saw today as “CUTE!” Well, which one is it? Am I sexy or cute? I suppose I might be both but who are we kidding, Adriana? You might be able to stretch a “cute” out of the very few pictures of myself that I have on Facebook, but there’s no way there are “sexy” pictures of me there: a) I don’t know if “sexy” pictures of me exist, b) even if there are, they’re certainly not posted on Facebook.

You ask me to imagine you giving me a massage and later a blow job, and suggest that I would love it. Well, I probably would. Who doesn’t like a good massage? But here’s where my ambivalence kicks in: even if you’ve seen photos of me that you like, you haven’t had the courtesy to include a photo of yourself to pique my interest. And while imagining a soothing massage doesn’t require a face or a body to go along with it, I kind of need–and maybe this is just me–to be able to have an image of the person potentially giving me a blow job to begin to get excited. Maybe that makes me shallow or a “lookist,” but I want to be nothing if not honest with you, Adriana. It seems the least you deserve after putting yourself out there, messaging me and laying your feelings on the line.

We all know the cliché about men being visual creatures and I’m not afraid to tell you: it’s largely the truth. As a pornbot or even, at the wildest edges of hypothetical thought, an actual woman, I’d think you would know this about men. Since you don’t, it really makes me question the abilities of your programmers. You provide a link to “naughty pictures” but you and I both know there’s no way I’m going to click on that link, especially without at least one teasing photo to prick my curiosity. I mean, these spam emails must work on some small percentage of the male population, otherwise it wouldn’t be worth even the minimal effort it took to write and send them, but if you know anything at all about me from Facebook, you know that I’m not one of those guys.

“Get dirty with me Hun.” Am I Attila, all of a sudden? Look, I know you probably meant “hon” as in short for “honey,” but even then, can we save the pet names until at least after the massage, when I’ve had a chance to get to know you better? And if I’m being honest here, I’m probably going to want to get the blow job before really committing to any terms of endearment. But again, if you knew the slightest thing about me (and reading even a couple of my posts on Facebook would quickly demonstrate the kind of guy I am) you’d know that bad grammar and spelling and logical fallacies are my biggest pet peeves. Calling someone “Hun” is just the kind of thing that I might post about, and to be very clear, in a disparaging way. And while massages and blow jobs are enticing prospects, I think that I’ve learned over my forty-three years that the kind of woman who’d call me “Hun” is probably not the kind of woman with whom I could have a lasting relationship.

I’m sorry.

I will also not be messaging you at sexy3108sister. I don’t use online chats, and even if I did, it would not be Yahoo Messenger. Also, “sexy sister”…? No, just… no.